Stephanie Howard
by Lotr030201
Summary: Stephanie Howard and her twin brother Scott have always wanted to be something more than normal. One day, a family secret reveals itself when the twins find out that they're werewolves. After Scott wins game after game, his popularity rises. But the strong bond that twins had once shared seems to disappear. Stephanie gets more depressed and begins to hate herself and the Wolf. R&R!
1. Chapter 1

A/N: So this is my first Teen Wolf story. Based off of the 1985 movie with Michael J. Fox (AKA not the TV show that I seem to not get into because I don't really like it...sorry for all you fans out there). Basically it's Scott's sister going through the same thing, except when he becomes a basketball star, the tight bond the twins share starts to fall apart.

Chapter One

Okay, so I have to put this in ALL fairness—my school's basketball team sucks, I'm pissed off because freaking Pamela Wells got the part in the play that _I_, Stephanie Howard, should have gotten, and I'm dealing with some conflicted feelings towards one of Scott's best friends right now. I wasn't mad at all, it's just... I've come to terms that I have a huge crush on Stiles.

I was sitting right behind him at the game. No one was in there to watch because, again, we suck. Scott was in the middle of the floor, both teams around him, as his hands went up to his face. They came down and the referee threw him the basketball. He caught it and dribbled in place a couple of times. Then, he looked at the basket, aimed, and threw the ball.  
But it missed.  
The teams swarmed for the ball, one of the very tall guys pushing down our guys to get it.

"Defense, defense!" our coach yelled. Yeah. Right. That's so gonna work. "Come on, ref, foul!"

One of the guys pushed Scott down and shot. Scott landed on the ground with an "Ugh!" escaping from his mouth. I shook my head and Boof thinned her lips. I knew she had a huge crush on my brother. I mean, shit, it was _so _easy to tell. A shot was made and there was some sparse applause for the Dragons. Our coach stood.

"Time!"

"Time, time!" one of the players yelled. A tall guy on the Dragons walked over to Scott and helped him up.

"You guys suck." He said and walked off. Scott smirked.

"No, really?" he said, sarcastically.

"Come on, let's go!" someone said.

"Looking good. Way to go. Nothing to worry about. It's fine." Our coach said as everyone on our team walked over to him. "No problem. Hot out there, isn't it? Shouldn't have got in his way, Scotty."

"Hey, Scott-o, looking good out there." Stiles said, coming in. I looked away, hoping no one saw me blush.

"Yeah, how would you know, Stiles." Scott snapped.

"You want to forfeit the game?" the other coach snapped at ours.

"Yeah. What's wrong with that?" ours asked.

"No!"

"No?"

"My players have league scoring records at stake. It wouldn't be fair to them."

"I just thought if we quit now, you could beat the 5:00 traffic."

"There's a lot to learn from losing."

"Okay, we'll play, if it's that big a deal to you."

There was some applause.

_Later_

It was the last few minutes of the game. Our vice principal, Thorne, looked at our coach.

"It's not going too well is it?" he asked.

"What do you expect, Thorne?" our coach snapped. "Look at the sneakers those guys are wearing. If our guys had sneakers like that, there's no telling what they could do."

Chubby had the ball but had no clue where to throw it.

"We're all open!" one yelled. Scott ran in front of him. "Jump it!" Chubby threw the ball and Scott jumped, but it missed him by a mile. Our coach caught the ball. He looked at Thorne.

"That fat kid's got a great arm." He said. The whistle blew as they all ran around.

"Over here, pass it!" one yelled. Scott caught it and he and that Dragons player were going at it for the ball.

"Forget it, dork!" the kid said. Scott growled at him. I looked at him, confused. The other player just looked scared. I nudged Boof.

"Did you hear that?"

"What?" she looked at me.

"You didn't hear Scott growl?"

"No." Boof shook her head. "Why? Did he?"

"Yeah. Loud and clear."

"Well, I didn't hear him."

Scott was running towards the goal. He shot and all of us tensed up. The ball bounced off the rim and then landed on the ground, missing the basket.

_Later_

I waited outside and was talking to the girls. Something fell in my shirt and I looked down. But I didn't see a leaf. All I saw were a few strands of long brown hair right in the middle of my breasts. "What the hell is that?" I ripped it off and looked at it. "Yuck." I threw it down.

"Hey." Boof looked at me. "You okay, Steph?"

"Yeah. Yeah. Fine."

"Scott."

"Oh, hi, Boof." Scott walked out. "Stephie let's go." My twin nudged his head towards the road.

"Don't boss me around, Scott."

"I am older than you."

"Yeah, but only by three minutes." I snapped. He laughed and put his arm around my shoulders.

"Hi, you going to work?" Boof asked.

"Yeah." Scott and I both replied.

"Can I walk with you?"

"Catch you later, Boof, at the party." Tina said.

"Bye, Tine, Trina... Tina." Scott held up his hand. "I had the strangest dream last night, Boof. It was bizarre."

"Was I in this one?"

"Yeah, yeah, you, Stephie, and... and Pamela, and a bunch of chickens."

"Boof, Steph, how the hell are you?" Stiles asked, standing up in his car.

"Say no." Scott said.

"No!" Boof and I said at the same time.

"Great talking to you!" Stiles drove off.

"Chickens?" Boof looked at my brother.

"Yeah, big chickens, giant. Like fryers, you know?"

"Oh mine was like that." I said.

"Really?" Scott looked at me.

"Yeah, it had you, Boof, Stiles... and cows. And then Stiles got chased by a cow. And these cows were big too. Like humongous."

"Cows? Stiles got chased by a cow?" Boof asked.

"Yeah."

She laughed. "Oh, I wish I could've seen that!"

Scott laughed and then turned grim as a sudden thought occurred to him. "You know, that guy was right. We do suck."

"No news there." Boof said.

"71-12. I don't even know what I'm doing out there. I'm sick of it, guys. I'm sick of being so average. And it's not just basketball. I-I-it's this school. It's this town. It's everything."

"Yeah, well, I'm sick of losing to Pamela Wells every time we have school play auditions."

"And I'm sick of hearing you complain about it." Scott joked. I smacked him upside the head.

"I like Beacontown." Boof snapped.

"I'd just like my life to change. You know, I don't wanna end up working for my Dad at the hardware store." Scott looked at her.

"I hate to admit it, but I gotta agree." I said.

"See? Even Stephie agrees."

"Your father's a terrific guy."

"Boof, look at me. Now, try and be objective. Am I alright? I mean, is there anything wrong with me?"

"You should probably shower after basketball."

"I do."

"Then no, there's nothing wrong with you."

"Well, then, uh, why won't Pamela Wells say two words to me?"

Oh dear God. Boof and I exchanged looks. Scott was in _love _with Pamela. Personally, I thought she was a whore, slut, bitch, and I think she might be sleeping with the theatre teacher.

"You can do a lot better than Pamela Wells." Boof snapped.

"Like who?"

"Don't you have to be at work?"

"Way to avoid the question, Boof." I joked.

"Shut up, Stephanie."

"Hey, hey. Did I say something wrong?" Scott asked.

"No, no. See you at the party, okay?" Boof left. Scott and I walked in, and Scott took his arm off of me.

"Hey, Angela." He said.

"Hi, Scotty, Stephie, how're you doing? What was the score?" Angela asked.

"Very funny."

Dad was counting some wrenches. "Fifty. What was the score?" he asked us.

"71—" Scott started.

"Don't tell me, I'll lose my count."

"We're down to our last waffle iron." Scott said.

"We are?" I asked.

"Yup."

"You know these wrenches are made in India? How do they expect me to compete with the big boys?" Dad grumbled, coming down off of his step-ladder.

"I'm not Sears and Roebuck." The three of us all said in unison. When we all spoke, Scott and I looked at each other.

"Well, I'm not." Dad said. He looked at Scott. "Hey, Stephie, how're you doing? You okay? You look a little sick."

"I'm fine, Dad." I smiled.

"You sure? If you need to, you can go home."

"No, Dad. I'm fine. Really."

"Okay." Dad looked at my brother. "You look a little tired today, Scott. That coach is not giving you boys steroids or anything is he?"

"Not likely. Maybe he should. We lost 71-12."

Dad shook his head. "You know, Beacontown hasn't won a ball game in, it must be three years." There was a sharp whistle blow. Scott and I both winced. "Don't take it personally, Scott. It's all part of growing up."

"Yeah, uh, yeah, I guess so." Scott said. "Uh, any deliveries?" another whistle blow. "Ah!" Scott exclaimed quietly, covering his ears.

"Some strange-sounding guy called." Dad said. "Sounded like he was in a big hurry."

"Ah!" Scott winced. I saw a little brat with a whistle in his hand. "Today?"

"I'm not sure what I wrote down, but check the clipboard."

"Check the clipboard." Scott repeated and then both of us went over to the little brat.

"That's what it's there for. Well, it is." Dad said as we left his side. Another whistle blow and Scott and I covered our ears again.

"I'm gonna kill that kid, I swear to God, I'm gonna kill that kid." I muttered.

"Calm down, just calm down." Scott grunted his teeth. But he was also agitated. We saw the brat an aisle over and ran to him. Right before he could blow again, Scott lightly smacked him in the back of the head and the whistle came out of his mouth and landed in Scott's hand.

"It's broken." The brat said and walked off.

"Dog whistle?" Scott muttered. I looked at him.

"Scott, did you find anything...weird on you today?"

"Like what?"

"Like hair that's not supposed to be on your chest?"

"What color?" Scott looked at me in surprise as he stood.

"Brown. About this long." I held my thumb and forefinger up and apart as far as they could go.

"Oh my God."

"You did, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but I ripped it off."

"Scott, do you think there's something wrong with us?"

"No. Maybe. Possibly. I'm not sure. I think we should talk to Dad about this."

"Good idea." I nodded.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

We showed up at the school overwhelmed with the hardware supplies.

"Screw two trips." I muttered. Scott smiled the best he could with the tape in his mouth. He said something. "What?" I asked. He shook his head. A can of paint fell. He started to kick it but stopped. He went to pick it up when a bag fell. He picked that up and we continued on our way until the tape fell out of his mouth. The vice principal, Thorne, stopped it by using his foot. He picked it up.

"Hi, Mr. Thorne. How are you, sir?" Scott asked. Thorne threw the tape at him. Scott went to catch it but all of the other stuff fell. "Whoa!" he caught it. "Thanks." He bent down to get all of the other stuff together.

"Whoa, what an arm." Thorne said. "Aren't you going to help him?" he cocked an eyebrow at me. I cocked an attitude.

"Can't you see my arms are full?"

"Thanks, Mr. Thorne. Appreciate it. Go to hell." Scott muttered. Thorne glared at me and left. Scott looked at me. "You gotta watch your anger, Stephie. That's what got you in trouble last week, remember?"

"Yeah, well. That bitch deserved to get punched." I snapped. We made our way to the stage when Scott dropped something. I groaned and glared at him.

"Sorry." He muttered. He scrambled to pick the can up and we made our way onto the stage.

"...What was that?" someone snapped. The theatre teacher.

"Sor... Sorry, sir. That was us." Scott said as we walked onstage. And, glaring at us was the slut, Pamela Wells.

"What do you want from me, hmm? What do people want from me? I am merely trying to rehearse, hmm?"

Yeah with the worst actress anyone could ask for. I rolled my eyes.

"Uh, yeah, I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Scott said. "We've got the stuff that you ordered."

"Wait," the teacher stood. "Are you from the hardware store?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Yes sir."

Scott and I spoke at the same exact time.

"Uh..." Scott was stealing short glances at Pamela.

"Ah." The teacher started our way. Scott looked at Pamela finally.

"Uh, Pamela, excuse me, um... Are you going to the party tonight? Because, uh, if you are, I'd like to give you a ride."

"The paint... My paint. A can of cocoa, a can of mauve, am I right?" the teacher walked up to us.

"Uh, right." Scott answered and then he dropped everything. He looked at his hands and hid them. "Stephie," he whispered. "Your hands. They've got brown hair on them."

I looked down, squeaked, and copied my twin, all of my things falling as well.

"Kirk, how was my reading?" Pamela asked.

"Uh, uh, beautiful, darling. Very sensual." Lolley got up onto the stage. "I'm still in pain. Thank you."

"Uh, you're welcome." Scott said as Lolley left. He looked at Pamela again. "Listen, about tonight, I mean, I'm serious. I'd like to take you. Uh, I... I've got a van."

"Oooh, super cool." I teased.

"Shut up, Stephie."

Pamela rolled her eyes.

"Hope your acting's better than your hook shot, boy." The tall kid from the game came in. Pamela looked at Scott.

"I already have a ride." She walked over to the edge of the stage.

"Or maybe you were just acting like a basketball player."

"He just delivers hardware, Mick. Along with that sister of his." Pamela told Mick.

"Well, maybe he should get back to delivering it. Come on." He helped Pamela down, which made her laugh, and then kissed her. They laughed as they left. Scott pulled his hands out of his pockets but they were normal. Mine were too.

"I said _mauve_ not turquoise!" Lolley thundered.

"Uh, Mr... Mr. Lolley..." Scott started as he picked everything up. I copied suit and the tape ran away again.

_Later_

We were at home eating dinner. Dad had his place at the front of the table, Scott on the end and I was on the right hand side of him.

"Dad?" Scott asked. "Uh... What'd you say if I said I was thinking of quitting the basketball team?"

My fork fell and my mouth hung open for a second before I covered it. "What?" I asked. "Scott you didn't tell me about this."

"Well, I figured I'd ask Dad about it."

"Quitting the team?" Dad asked.

"Yeah."

"That's pretty drastic, isn't it? I mean, you're not the worst player they've got. You know, your mother always said you could do anything you want to."

"Yeah, I know. I was just thinking of doing something else.

"Like what?"

"School play."

"Well, theatre has its place, I suppose." Dad started.

"Scott. No. They've already got enough bad actors as it is." I joked.

"Well, jeez, thanks Steph." Scott glared.

"Stephanie." Dad said in a stern tone. His voice didn't rise. Dad never really raised his voice to us. If we did something that was along the lines of beating someone up, going a little too far on the teasing, he'd get stern with us but not yell.

"Sorry, Scott." I said.

"But what about your commitment to the team, to the school?"

Scott and I looked at each other then at Dad. We spoke at the same time. "Dad... Has anything ever happened to you that was so weird?"

"Maybe it's time you, Stephie, and I had a little chat." Dad said, wiping his mouth with the napkin.

"Hey, Mr. Howard, how's the king of the nuts and bolts?" Stiles asked walking in. He took something off of Dad's plate, threw it into the air, and then ate it.

"Stiles, nice shirt."

"Hey, thanks." Stiles looked at us. "Come on, we're late."

Scott and I got up and walked over to Stiles.

"Boof going with you?" Dad asked.

"Well, she's gonna be there." I answered.

"Uh, yeah, I don't know how she's getting there." Scott said. Stiles got impatient and pointed dramatically to the door. God, he was so freaking cute. "Uh, it this okay?"

"No, don't worry about it, I'll get it." Dad said.

"You sure?" I asked.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Go ahead, have a good time. Be careful."

The three of us left the room. Scott and I noticed something on our skin.

"Come on!" Stiles said impatiently.

"Hey, hey, listen, Stiles." Scott said. Stiles stopped and looked at us. "Do you know anything about a rash that's going around?"

"Yeah. Has anyone said anything?" I asked.

"Why, you goons looking to catch something?" Stiles asked us.

"No, I'm serious." Scott said.

"No, but I heard Mr. Murphy, you know, the shop teacher?" Stiles put on his sunglasses.

"Yeah?" Scott and I said.

"Got his dick caught in a vacuum cleaner."

I started laughing. "Oh, my God! How did that happen?"

"I heard he was vacuuming naked. You know how weird he is."

Stiles chuckled. "Forget we asked." He said and we left.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

We pulled up to the liquor store and stopped. I kept noticing Lewis looking at me whenever he could. He liked me. A lot. I could tell.

"Stiles, you're crazy." Scott said.

"No. It's not crazy. It's perfect." Stiles told him. He took out a yellow toy gun. "Now, you just stick this in your pocket, like this. Alright, you go in there, you don't say anything except, "Give me a keg, buddy." And you pay for it, that way, he can't say you guys robbed him."

"Why do I have to go in? Can't Scott just do this himself?"

"Scott-o might need a hostage."

"A hostage?" Scott and I said together.

"Kidding." Stiles smiled at us. I should've known he was kidding. "Just for help. You're just helping him out." His face turned serious as he looked at us. "You know I'd do this myself, but that old guy in there already kicked me out."

"Give me the gun." Scott gave up. Stiles handed him the gun.

"Scott." I hissed. He nudged me and then glared. The only glare that I could recognize that meant, "You think I'm actually this stupid?"

"Give me the money." He held out his hand. Stiles gave him the money. Then Scott threw the gun into the van, much to Stiles' dismay.

"Oh!" he groaned.

"We're gonna try and buy it. That's it!"

"No, no, no, guys! This guy is a ball-buster, and it won't work."

Scott tugged on my arm and we started for the store. "That's it!" he said again.

"It won't work!"

"That's it!"

Scott pulled me to the side. "And now that they are out of sight." I winked.

He made sure he heard Stiles groaning in frustration. We had this idea that I was telling him about in the van when I knew Lewis was zoned out and not listening. "Okay, we changed our minds! We're not going in!"

"What? You shitheads!" Stiles stormed over. "What do you mean you're not going in?! I already gave you the money and everything! What, are you gonna take the money and run?!"

I laughed. "Got you!"

He glared at us. "Pull that again." He pointed at us. "Pull that again. Almost gave me a heart attack." He walked back over to the cars. Scott and I laughed and we went inside and stood in line.

_Inside_

"No, no, no, not that." A woman said. Jesus Christ lady. "Yeah, no, no. I think I'll leave it. No, no, no. Thanks a lot, anyways. Bye." She left with her RC Colas. About damn time too.

"Do you have any more of that brown liqueur? My sister really liked that." Said the lady with brown hair that was standing in front of us.

"Liqueur. Brown liqueur." I mocked quietly. Scott tried not to laugh.

"Stephie, be quiet." He nudged me in the stomach lightly, smiling. The man showed her something.

"Yes, thank you." The lady paid and left. Well, she was a lot quicker than Blondie was, I tell you that much. We walked up.

"Hi." Scott smiled. The smile wiped off the man's face as he glared at us.

"Hi." He said.

"Uh, we'd like a keg of beer, please."

"You don't say?" the man sat down while reading his paper.

"Yeah, uh, how much is that?" Scott dug into his pockets.

"Do you have any ID?" he asked us.

"Well, I uh—" I started. "Well, you see—" I groaned and looked at Scott for help. Scott opened his mouth, but didn't even have a chance to speak.

"You little bastards just won't give up, will you?" the man snapped. "Listen, no ID, no goddamn beer. Can't you get that through your thick skull?"

My eyes narrowed and I began growling, unbeknownst to myself. Scott opened his mouth and began to talk, but it wasn't him talking at all. The man seemed very scared of us now, his eyes as wide as saucers. A deep voice emerged from Scott.

"Give us a keg of beer." He said slowly. The man ran off to get the keg. Scott held up a package of powdered donuts. "And these." He said, but it was his voice this time. He looked at me.

"What are you growling about, Stephie?" he asked. I stopped and looked at him.

"What?" I asked. My voice didn't change at all or anything.

"You were growling. Like a dog."

"Was not."

"You were too."

"Nuh uh."

"Uh huh."

_Later-Van_

Stiles had the keg sitting next to him in his car. Lewis, Scott and I were in the van, like before.

"What'd you two say to that guy in the store?" Lewis asked. I made Scott swear he wouldn't tell anyone about how I was growling.

"Just, uh, "Give us a keg."" Scott shrugged his shoulders.

"That's it?"

"Yeah, that's it. Well, Lewis, Stephie, this is it, tonight's the night. Pamela Wells is gonna be there, and so am I."

"And so is Mick."

"He's not gonna be there."

"Of course he's gonna be there. They're going together, aren't they?"

"No, they're not. They're not going together."

"Mick is, like, 20 years old, alright?"

"Lewis—"

"The only reason he's still in high school is because he did _time_."

"Look, I'm telling you, Lewis. Lewis, I'm telling you, they're not going together."

"Forget Pamela Wells."

"They're not going together."

"He's a total psycho. Why don't you go for Boof? She likes you."

"You sound like my Dad." Scott rolled his eyes.

"Pull over!" I heard Stiles yell. I looked out the window. "Pull over!"

"What are you? The police?" I asked.

"Yes. I have a warrant for your arrest!" Stiles laughed. "Pull over!"

"Trust me." Lewis said.

"I'm not even listening anymore." Scott snapped at him.

"Would you just listen? They are locked at the hip, man."

"Lewis, once and for all, once and for all, they are not going out.

"Yeah they are."

"Not."

"They are, too. You're crazy."

"Lewis, Lewis, Lewis." Stiles suddenly appeared at Lewis's window. "Take my wheels."

"I don't even have my license yet." Lewis objected.

"Come on, just do it." Stiles pulled him out of the van and sat in his spot. I was sitting in between the seats so he looked down at me. "Well hello there."

I giggled.

"Look, Stiles, let's just go to the party. I don't think this is such a good idea. And stop flirting with my sister."

"I'm not flirting with your sister. Surf's up." he grabbed a flower print shirt and then looked at Lewis who was staring at us like an idiot. "Drive out in front of us."

"Yeah, not too close." Scott and I added.

"What are you guys going to do?" Lewis asked.

"Rob a bank." I joked. Scott nudged me in the side. "Ow."

"What are you serious? Stephanie, are you—"

"Lewis, will you just do it?" Stiles snapped. He pushed Lewis forward and Lewis got into Stiles' car. We all looked at each other.

"Kids." Scott shook his head. "Alright, okay, listen, I'm going to go slow, alright?" Scott said as we started driving again.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah." Stiles said, putting on the flower print shirt. "Listen, don't worry about a thing. We got everything under control." He put on some yellow see through sunglasses. "You do your thing and I will do mine." He threw off his shoes. "Cowabunga!" then he crawled out on top of the van. Surfin' U.S.A. by The Beach Boys began to play. Lewis kept looking back at us. Scott and I were singing along. He was hitting his hand on the steering wheel. I sat in the passenger seat now, and took down a fold, just to see if I looked okay.  
That's when I noticed them.  
My ears were pointy.

"Oh, shit." I muttered. The car swerved. I screamed and gripped the sides of the seat. There was a thud on the top.

"Whoa! Wipeout!" Stiles yelled. Scott and I looked at each other and yelped. I pulled my hair in front of my ears.

"Are you alright up there?" Scott called to him.

"Yeah, no sweat!" Stiles appeared next to me. "But just watch those waves!" he laughed and got back up on the roof. We looked at our ears again.

They were normal.

"What the hell is going on?" I whispered.


End file.
